LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


THE   PEARL 


THE  PEARL 

A    MIDDLE    ENGLISH     POEM 

A   MODERN    VERSION    IN    THE 

METRE     OF     THE 

ORIGINAL 

BY 

SOPHIE    JEWETT 

ASSOCIATE  PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH   LITERATURE 
IN  WELLESLEY   COLLEGE 


NEW    YORK 
THOMAS    Y.   CROWELL   &    CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1908 
BY  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  Co. 

Published  September,  1908 


THE   UNIVERSITY   PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.  8.  A. 


POET  of  beauty,  pardon  me 
If  touch  of  mine  have  tarnished 
Thy  Pearl's  pure  luster,  loved  by  thee  ; 
Or  dimmed  thy  vision  of  the  dead 
Alive  in  light  and  gaiety. 
Thy  life  is  like  a  shadow  fled  ; 
Thy  place  we  know  not  nor  degree, 
The    stock    that    bore    thee,    school    that 

bred ; 

Yet  shall  thy  fame  be  sung  and  said. 
Poet  of  wonder,  pain,  and  peace, 
Hold  high  thy   nameless,  laurelled  head 
Where  Dante  dwells  with   Beatrice. 


PREFACE 

A  MONG  the  treasures  of  the  British  Mu- 
"*•  -^  seum  is  a  manuscript  which  contains 
four  anonymous  poems,  apparently  of  com- 
mon authorship:  "The  Pearl,"  "Cleanness," 
"Patience,"  "Sir  Gawayne  and  the  Green 
Knight."  From  the  language  of  the  writer, 
it  seems  clear  that  he  was  a  native  of  some 
Northwestern  district  of  England,  and  that 
he  lived  in  the  second  half  of  the  Fourteenth 
Century.  He  is  quite  unknown,  save  as  his 
work  reveals  him,  a  man  of  aristocratic 
breeding,  of  religious  and  secular  education, 
of  a  deeply  emotional  and  spiritual  nature, 
gifted  with  imagination  and  perception  of 
beauty.  He  shows  a  liking  for  technique  that 
[ix] 


leads  him  to  adopt  elaborate  devices  of  rhyme, 
while  retaining  the  alliteration  characteristic 
of  Northern  Middle  English  verse.  He  wrote 
as  was  the  fashion  of  his  time,  allegory, 
homily,  lament,  chivalric  romance,  but  the 
distinction  of  his  poetry  is  that  of  a  finely 
accentuated  individuality. 

The  poems  called  "Cleanness"  and  "Pa- 
tience," retell  incidents  of  biblical  history  for 
a  definitely  didactic  purpose,  but  even  these 
are  frequently  lifted  into  the  region  of  imag- 
inative literature  by  the  author's  power  of 
graphic  description.  "Sir  Gawayne  and  the 
Green  Knight"  is  a  priceless  contribution  to 
Arthurian  story.  "The  Pearl,"  though  it 
takes  the  form  of  symbolic  narrative,  is  es- 
sentially lyric  and  elegiac,  the  lament,  it 
would  seem,  of  a  father  for  a  little,  long-lost 
daughter. 

The  present  translation  of  "The  Pearl" 
was  begun  with  no  larger  design  than  that 


of  turning  a  few  passages  into  modern  Eng- 
lish, by  way  of  illustrating  to  a  group  of 
students  engaged  in  reading  the  original,  the 
possibility  of  preserving  intricate  stanzaic 
form,  and  something  of  alliteration,  without 
an  entire  sacrifice  of  poetic  beauty.  The  ex- 
periment was  persisted  in  because  its  problems 
are  such  as  baffle  and  fascinate  a  translator, 
and  the  finished  version  is  offered  not  merelv 
to  students  of  Middle  English  but  to  college 
classes  in  the  history  of  English  literature, 
and  to  non-academic  readers. 

If  "The  Pearl"  presented  no  greater  ob- 
stacle to  a  modern  reader  than  is  offered 
by  Chaucer's  English,  a  translation  might 
be  a  gratuitous  task,  but  the  Northwest- 
Midland  dialect  of  the  poem  is,  in  fact,  in- 
comparably more  difficult  than  the  diction  of 
Chaucer,  more  difficult  even  than  that  of 
Langland.  The  meaning  of  many  passages 
remains  obscure,  and  a  translator  is  often 
[xi] 


forced  to  choose  what  seems  the  least  dubious 
among  doubtful  readings. 

The  poem  in  the  original  passes  frequently 
from  imaginative  beauty  to  conversational 
commonplace,  from  deep  feeling  to  didactic 
aphorism  or  theological  dogma,  and  it  has 
been  my  endeavor  faithfully  to  interpret  these 
variations  of  matter  and  of  style,  sometimes 
substituting  modern  colloquialisms  for  such 
as  are  obsolete,  or  in  other  ways  paraphras- 
ing a  stubborn  passage,  but  striving  never 
to  polish  the  dullest  lines  nor  to  strengthen 
the  weakest. 

A  reader  who  will  observe  the  difficult 
rhyming  scheme,  a  scheme  that  calls  for  six 
words  of  one  rhyme  and  four  of  another,  will 
understand  the  presence  of  forced  lines,  an 
intrusion  that  one  must  needs  suffer  in 
even  "The  Faerie  Queene."  These  padded 
lines  are  a  serious  blemish  to  the  poem, 
but  the  introduction  of  naive  and  familiar 
[xii] 


expressions  is  one  of  its  charms,  as  when 
the  Pearl,  protesting  like  Piccarda  in  Para- 
dise *  that  among  beatified  spirits  there  can 
be  no  rivalry,  exclaims:  "The  more  the 


merrier."  2 


The  translation  may,  at  many  points,  need 
apology,  but  the  original  needs  only  explana- 
tion. Readers  familiar  with  mediaeval  poetry 
expect  to  encounter  moral  platitudes  and  theo- 
logical subtlety.  Dogma  takes  large  and  vital 
place  in  the  sublimest  cantos  of  Dante's 
"Paradise,"  and  the  English  poet  is  con- 
sciously following  his  noblest  master  when  he 
puts  a  sermon  into  the  lips  of  his  "little 
queen."  To  modern  ears  such  exposition  is 
at  harsh  discord  with  the  simple  human  grief 
and  longing  of  the  poet,  but  to  the  mediae- 
valist  symbolic  theology  was  a  passion.  Pre- 
cisely in  the  moment  when  she  begins  a 

1  Par.  III. 

2  Pearl,  stanza  71. 


discourse  concerning  the  doctrine  of  redemp- 
tion, Beatrice  turns  upon  Dante  "eyes  that 
might  make  a  man  happy  in  the  fire,"  and  at 
its  close  he  looks  upon  her  and  beholds  her 
"grow  more  beautiful."  *  If  even  Beatrice 
has  been  considered  mere  personification,  it 
is  natural  that  the  Pearl  should  be  so  regarded, 
but  the  plain  reader  finds  in  the  symbolic 
maiden  of  the  English  poem,  as  in  the 
transfigured  lady  of  the  Italian,  some  record 
of  a  human  being  whose  loss  was  anguish, 
and  whose  presence  rapture,  to  a  poet  long 
ago. 

The  lover  of  things  mediaeval  will  find  in 
this  little  book  not  only  the  familiar  garden 
of  Guillaume  de  Lorris,  of  Boccaccio  and  of 
Chaucer,  but  an  unexpected  and  enchanting 
vision  of  great  forest  and  rushing  water,  of 
hillside  and  plain,  of  crystal  cliffs  and  flame- 
winged  birds;  of  the  Pearl  among  her  white 

1  Par.  VII,  11.   17-18  ;    Par.  VIII,  1.   15. 
[xiv  ] 


peers;  of  the  Apocalyptic  Jerusalem,  discov- 
ered to  the  poet,  it  may  be,  as  a  goodly  Gothic 
city,  though  its  walls  are  built  of  precious 
stone,  and  its  towers  rise  from  neither  church 
nor  minster. 

If  even  a  few  readers  turn  from  the  modern 
to  the  original  version,  the  translation  will 
have  had  fair  fortune,  for  the  author  of  "The 
Pearl"  is,  though  unknown  and  unnamed,  a 
poet  second  only  to  Chaucer  in  Chaucer's 
generation. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  record  my  many  debts  of 
gratitude:  to  Professor  Frank  H.  Chase  of 
Beloit,  Professor  John  L.  Lowes  of  Swarth- 
more,  and  Dr.  Charles  G.  Osgood  of  Prince- 
ton, for  their  careful  reading  of  the  translation 
in  manuscript,  with  invaluable  assistance 
and  suggestion;  to  Professor  Martha  Hale 
Shackford,  and  Miss  Laura  A.  Hibbard,  for 
constant  aid  while  the  work  was  in  making, 
and,  above  all,  to  Professor  Katharine  Lee 
[xv] 


Bates  for  a  critical,  line  by  line,  comparison 
of  this  version  with  the  original. 

s.  j. 

WELLESLEY  COLLEGE, 
June,  1908. 


EDITIONS  :  R.  Morris,  Early  English  text  Sc.  I  864  ; 
I.  Gollancz,  London,  1891;  C.  G.  Osgood,  Boston,  1906 
(with  admirable  introduction,  etc.).  TRANSLATIONS  : 
Gollancz  (above);  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  New  York,  1906 
(poetic,  but  incomplete);  G.  G.  Coulton,  London,  1906 
(metre  of  the  original) ;  C.  G.  Osgood,  Princeton, 
1907  (prose). 


[xvi] 


THE  PEARL 


PEARL  that   the  Prince   full  well   might 
prize, 

So  surely  set  in  shining  gold ! 
No  pearl  of  Orient  with  her  vies; 
To  prove  her  peerless  I  make  bold: 
So  round,  so  radiant  to  mine  eyes, 
So  smooth  she  seemed,  so  small  to  hold, 
Among  all  jewels  judges  wise 
Would  count  her  best  an  hundred  fold. 
Alas  !     I  lost  my  pearl  of  old  ! 
I  pine  with  heart-pain  unforgot; 
Down  through  my  arbour  grass  it  rolled, 
My  own  pearl,  precious,  without  spot. 


Since  in  that  spot  it  slipped  from  me 

I  wait,  and  wish,  and  oft  complain; 

Once  it  would  bid  my  sorrow  flee, 

And  my  fair  fortune  turn  again; 

It  wounds  my  heart  now  ceaselessly, 

And  burns  my  breast  with  bitter  pain. 

Yet  never  so  sweet  a  song  may  be 

As,  this  still  hour,  steals  through  my  brain, 

While  verily  I  muse  in  vain 

How  clay  should  her  bright  beauty  clot; 

O  Earth  !   a  brave  gem  thou  dost  stain, 

My  own  pearl,  precious,  without  spot ! 


Needs  must  that  spot  with  spices  spread, 
Where  such  wealth  falleth  to  decay; 
Fair  flowers,  golden  and  blue  and  red, 
Shine  in  the  sunlight  day  by  day; 
Nor  flower  nor  fruit  have  withered 
On  turf  wherein  such  treasure  lay; 
The  blade  grows  where  the  grain  lies  dead, 
Else  were  no  ripe  wheat  stored  away; 
Of  good  come  good  things,  so  we  say, 
Then  surely  such  seed  faileth  not, 
But  spices  spring  in  sweet  array 
From  my  pearl,  precious,  without  spot. 


[3] 


Once,  to  that  spot  of  which  I  rhyme, 

I  entered,  in  the  arbour  green, 

In  August,  the  high  summer-time 

When  corn  is  cut  with  sickles  keen; 

Upon  the  mound  where  my  pearl  fell, 

Tall,  shadowing  herbs  grew  bright  and  sheen, 

Gilliflower,  ginger  and  gromwell, 

With  peonies  powdered  all  between. 

As  it  was  lovely  to  be  seen, 

So  sweet  the  fragrance  there,  I  wot, 

Worthy  her  dwelling  who  hath  been 

My  own  pearl,  precious,  without  spot. 


Upon  that  spot  my  hands  I  crossed 
In  prayer,  for  cold  at  my  heart  caught, 
And  sudden  sorrow  surged  and  tossed, 
Though  reason  reconcilement  sought. 
I  mourned  my  pearl,  dear  beyond  cost, 
And  strange  fears  with  my  fancy  fought; 
My  will  in  wretchedness  was  lost, 
And  yet  Christ  comforted  my  thought. 
Such  odours  to  my  sense  were  brought, 
I  fell  upon  that  flowery  plot, 
Sleeping,  —  a  sleep  with  dreams  inwrought 
Of  my  pearl,  precious,  without  spot. 


[5] 


II 

TT^ROM   the  spot  my   spirit  springs   into 

-*-        space, 

The  while  my  body  sleeping  lies; 

My  ghost  is  gone  in  God's  good  grace, 

Adventuring  mid  mysteries; 

I  know  not  what  might  be  the  place, 

But  I  looked  where  tall  cliffs  cleave  the  skies, 

Toward  a  forest  I  turned  my  face, 

Where  ranks  of  radiant  rocks  arise. 

A  man  might  scarce  believe  his  eyes, 

Such  gleaming  glory  was  from  them  sent; 

No  woven  web  may  men  devise 

Of  half  such  wondrous  beauties  blent. 


[6] 


In  beauty  shone  each  fair  hillside 

With  crystal  cliffs  in  shining  row, 

While  bright  woods  everywhere  abide, 

Their  boles  as  blue  as  indigo; 

Like  silver  clear  the  leaves  spread  wide, 

That  on  each  spray  thick-quivering  grow; 

If  a  flash  of  light  across  them  glide 

With  shimmering  sheen  they  gleam  and  glow; 

The  gravel  on  the  ground  below 

Seemed  precious  pearls  of  Orient; 

The  sunbeams  did  but  darkling  show 

So  gloriously  those  beauties  blent. 


The  beauty  of  the  hills  so  fair 

Made  me  forget  my  sufferings; 

I  breathed  fruit  fragrance  fine  and  rare, 

As  if  I  fed  on  unseen  things ; 

Brave  birds  fly  through  the  woodland   there, 

Of  flaming  hues,  and  each  one  sings; 

With  their  mad  mirth  may  not  compare 

Cithern  nor  gayest  citole-strings ; 

For  when  those  bright  birds  beat  their  wings, 

They  sing  together,  all  content; 

Keen  joy  to  any  man  it  brings 

To  hear  and  see  such  beauties  blent. 


[8] 


So  beautiful  was  all  the  wood 

Where,  guided  forth  by  Chance,  I  strayed, 

There  is  no  tongue  that  fully  could 

Describe  it,  though  all  men  essayed. 

Onward  I  walked  in  merriest  mood 

Nor  any  highest  hill  delayed 

My  feet.    Far  through  the  forest  stood 

The  plain  with  fairest  trees  arrayed, 

Hedges  and  slopes  and  rivers  wide, 

Like  gold  thread  their  banks'  garnishment; 

And  when  I  won  the  waterside, 

Dear  Lord  !  what  wondrous   beauties   blent ! 


[9] 


The  beauties  of  that  stream  were  steep, 
All-radiant  banks  of  beryl  bright; 
Sweet-sighing  did  the  water  sweep, 
With  murmuring  music  running  light; 
Within  its  bed  fair  stones  lay  deep; 
As  if  through  glass  they  glowed,  as  white 
As  streaming  stars  when  tired  men  sleep 
Shine  in  the  sky  on  a  winter  night. 
Pure  emerald  even  the  pebbles  seemed, 
Sapphire,  or  other  gems  that  lent 
Luster,  till  all  the  water  gleamed 
With  the  glory  of  such  beauties  blent. 


[10] 


Ill 

FOR    the    beauteousness    of  downs    and 
dales, 

Of  wood  and  water  and  proud  plains, 
My  joy  springs  up  and  my  grief  quails, 
My  anguish  ends,  and  all  my  pains. 
A  swift  stream  down  the  valley  hales 
My  feet  along.     Bliss  brims  my  brains; 
The  farther  I  follow  those  watery  vales, 
The  stronger  joy  my  heart  constrains. 
While  Fortune  fares  as  her  proud  will  deigns, 
Sending  solace  or  sending  sore, 
When  a  man  her  fickle  favour  gains, 
He  looketh  to  have  aye  more  and  more. 


There  was  more  of  marvel  and  of  grace 
Than  I  could  tell,  howe'er  I  tried; 
The  human  heart  that  could  embrace 
A  tenth  part  were  well  satisfied; 
For  Paradise,  the  very  place, 
Must  be  upon  that  farther  side; 
The  water  by  a  narrow  space 
Pleasance  from  pleasance  did  divide. 
Beyond,  on  some  slope  undescried 
The  City  stood,  I  thought,  wherefore 
I  strove  to  cross  the  river's  tide, 
And  ever  I  longed,  yet  more  and  more. 


[12] 


More,  and  still  more  wistfully, 
The  banks  beyond  the  brook  I  scanned; 
If,  where  I  stood,  't  was  fair  to  see, 
Still  lovelier  lay  that  farther  land. 
I  sought  if  any  ford  might  be 
Found,  up  or  down,  by  rock  or  sand; 
But  perils  plainer  appeared  to  me, 
The  farther  I  strode  along  the  strand; 
I  thought  I  ought  not  thus  to  stand 
Timid,  with  such  bright  bliss  before; 
Then  a  new  matter  came  to  hand 
That  moved  my  heart  yet  more  and  more. 


[-3] 


Marvels  more  and  more  amaze 
My  mind  beyond  that  water  fair: 
From  a  cliff  of  crystal,  splendid  rays, 
Reflected,  quiver  in  the  air. 
At  the  cliff's  foot  a  vision  stays 
My  glance,  a  maiden  debonaire, 
All  glimmering  white  before  my  gaze; 
And    I   know   her,  —  have   seen   her   other- 
where. 

Like  fine  gold  leaf  one  cuts  with  care, 
Shone  the  maiden  on  the  farther  shore. 
Long  time  I  looked  upon  her  there, 
And  ever  I  knew  her  more  and  more. 


As  more  and  more  I  scanned  her  face 

And  form,  when  I  had  found  her  so, 

A  glory  of  gladness  filled  the  place 

Beyond  all  it  was  wont  to  show. 

My  joy  would  call  her  and  give  chase, 

But  wonder  struck  my  courage  low; 

I  saw  her  in  so  strange  a  place, 

The  shock  turned  my  heart  dull  and  slow. 

But  now  she  lifts  that  brow  aglow, 

Like  ivory  smooth,  even  as  of  yore, 

It  made  my  senses  straying  go, 

It  stung  my  heart  aye  more  and  more. 


t'5] 


IV 

IV  /f  ORE  than  I  liked  did  my  fear  rise. 

•L  » -*•     Stock  still  I  stood  and  dared  not  call; 

With  lips  close  shut  and  watchful  eyes, 

I  stood  as  quiet  as  hawk  in  hall. 

I  thought  her  a  spirit  from  the  skies; 

I  doubted  what  thing  might  befall; 

If  to  escape  me  now  she  tries, 

How  shall  my  voice  her  flight  forestall  ? 

Then  graciously  and  gay  withal, 

In  royal  robes,  so  sweet,  so  slight, 

She  rose,  so  modest  and  so  small, 

That  precious  one  in  pearls  bedight. 


[16] 


Pearl  bedight  full  royally, 

Adown  the  bank  with  merry  mien, 

Came  the  maiden,  fresh  as  fleur-de-lys. 

Her  surcoat  linen  must  have  been 

Shining  in  whitest  purity, 

Slashed  at  the  sides  and  caught  between 

With  the  fairest  pearls,  it  seemed  to  me, 

That  ever  yet  mine  eyes  had  seen; 

With  large  folds  falling  loose,  I  ween, 

Arrayed  with  double  pearls,  her  white 

Kirtle,  of  the  same  linen  sheen, 

With  precious  pearls  all  round  was  dight. 


[17] 


A  crown  with  pearls  bedight,  the  girl 

Was  wearing,  and  no  other  stone; 

High  pinnacled  of  clear  white  pearl, 

Wrought  as  if  pearls  to  flowers  were  grown. 

No  band  nor  fillet  else  did  furl 

The  long  locks  all  about  her  thrown. 

Her  air  demure  as  duke  or  earl, 

Her  hue  more  white  than  walrus-bone; 

Like  sheer  gold  thread  the  bright  hair  strown 

Loose  on  her  shoulders,  lying  light. 

Her  colour  took  a  deeper  tone 

With  bordering  pearls  so  fair  bedight. 


[18] 


Bedight  was  every  hem,  and  bound, 
At  wrists,  sides,  and  each  aperture, 
With  pearls  the  whitest  ever  found, — 
White  all  her  brave  investiture; 
But  a  wondrous  pearl,  a  flawless  round, 
Upon  her  breast  was  set  full  sure; 
A  man's  mind  it  might  well  astound, 
And  all  his  wits  to  madness  lure. 
I  thought  that  no  tongue  might  endure 
Fully  to  tell  of  that  sweet  sight, 
So  was  it  perfect,  clear  and  pure, 
That  precious  pearl  with  pearls  bedight. 


[•9] 


Bedight  in  pearls,  lest  my  joy  cease, 
That  lovely  one  came  down  the  shore; 
The  gladdest  man  from  here  to  Greece, 
The  eagerest,  was  I,  therefore; 
She  was  nearer  kin  than  aunt  or  niece, 
And  thus  my  joy  was  much  the  more. 
She  spoke  to  me  for  my  soul's  peace, 
Courtesied  with  her  quaint  woman's  lore, 
Caught  off  the  shining  crown  she  wore, 
And  greeted  me  with  glance  alight. 
I  blessed  my  birth;    my  bliss  brimmed  o'er 
To  answer  her  in  pearls  bedight. 


[20] 


O    PEARL,"    I    said,   "in    pearls    be- 
dight, 

Art  thou  my  pearl  for  which  I  mourn, 
Lamenting  all  alone  at  night  ? 
With  hidden  grief  my  heart  is  worn. 
Since   thou    through    grass   didst    slip    from 

sight, 

Pensive  and  pained,  I  pass  forlorn, 
And  thou  livest  in  a  life  of  light, 
A  world  where  enters  sin  nor  scorn. 
What  fate  has  hither  my  jewel  borne, 
And  left  me  in  earth's  strife  and  stir? 
Oh,  sweet,  since  we  in  twain  were  torn, 
I  have  been  a  joyless  jeweler." 


[21] 


That  Jewel  then  with  gems  besprent 
Glanced  up  at  me  with  eyes  of  grey, 
Put  on  her  pearl  crown  orient, 
And  soberly  began  to  say: 
"You  tell  your  tale  with  wrong  intent, 
Thinking  your  pearl  gone  quite  away. 
Like  a  jewel  within  a  coffer  pent, 
In  this  gracious  garden  bright  and  gay, 
Your  pearl  may  ever  dwell  at  play, 
Where  sin  nor  mourning  come  to  her; 
It  were  a  joy  to  thee  alway 
Wert  thou  a  gentle  jeweler. 


[22] 


"But,  Jeweler,  if  thou  dost  lose 

Thy  joy  for  a  gem  once- dear  to  thee, 

Methinks  thou  dost  thy  mind  abuse, 

Bewildered  by  a  fantasy; 

Thou  hast  lost  nothing  save  a  rose 

That  flowered  and  failed  by  life's  decree: 

Because  the  coffer  did  round  it  close, 

A  precious  pearl  it  came  to  be. 

A  thief  thou  hast  dubbed  thy  destiny 

That  something  for  nothing  gives  thee,  sir; 

Thou  blamest  thy  sorrow's  remedy, 

Thou  art  no  grateful  jeweler." 


Like  jewels  did  her  story  fall, 

A  jewel,  every  gentle  clause; 

"Truly,"  I  said,  "thou  best  of  all ! 

My  great  distress  thy  voice  withdraws. 

I  thought  my  pearl  lost  past  recall, 

My  jewel  shut  within  earth's  jaws; 

But  now  I  shall  keep  festival, 

And  dwell  with  it  in  bright  wood-shaws; 

And  love  my  Lord  and  all  His  laws, 

Who  hath  brought  this  bliss.     Ah  !  if  I  were 

Beyond  these  waves,  I  should  have  cause 

To  be  a  joyful  jeweler." 


"Jeweler,"  said  that  Gem  so  dear, 
"Why  jest  ye  men,  so  mad  ye  be  ? 
Three  sayings  thou  hast  spoken  clear, 
And  unconsidered  were  all  three; 
Their  meaning  thou  canst  not  come  near, 
Thy  word  before  thy  thought  doth  flee. 
First,  thou  believest  me  truly  here, 
Because  with  eyes  thou  mayst  me  see; 
Second,  with  me  in  this  country 
Thou  wilt  dwell,  whatever  may  deter; 
Third,  that  to  cross  here  thou  art  free : 
That  may  no  joyful  jeweler. 


[25] 


VI 


jeweler  merits  little  praise, 
Who  loves  but  what  he  sees  with  eye, 
And  it  were  a  discourteous  phrase 
To  say  our  Lord  would  make  a  lie, 
Who  surely  pledged  thy  soul  to  raise, 
Though  fate  should  cause  thy  flesh  to  die. 
Thou  dost  twist  His  words  in  crooked  ways 
Believing  only  what  is  nigh; 
This  is  but  pride  and  bigotry, 
That  a  good  man  may  ill  assume, 
To  hold  no  matter  trustworthy 
Till  like  a  judge  he  hear  and  doom. 


[26] 


"Whate'er  thy  doom,  dost  thou  complain 
As  man  should  speak  to  God  most  high  ? 
Thou  wouldst  gladly  dwell  in  this  domain; 
'T  were  best,  methinks,  for  leave  to  apply. 
Even  so,  perchance,  thou  pleadest  in  vain. 
Across  this  water  thou  wouldst  fly,  — 
To  other  end  thou  must  attain. 
Thy  corpse  to  clay  comes  verily,  — 
In  Paradise  't  was  ruined  by 
Our  forefather.     Now  in  the  womb 
Of  dreary  death  each  man  must  lie, 
Ere  God  on  this  bank  gives  his  doom." 


"  Doom  me  not,  sweet,  to  my  old  fears 

And  pain  again  wherein  I  pine. 

My  pearl  that,  long,  long  lost,  appears, 

Shall  I  again  forego,  in  fine  ? 

Meet  it,  and  miss  it  through  more  years  ? 

Thou  hast  hurt  me  with  that  threat  of  thine. 

For  what  serves  treasure  but  for  tears, 

One  must  so  soon  his  bliss  resign  ? 

I  reck  not  how  my  days  decline, 

Though  far  from  earth  my  soul  seek  room, 

Parted  from  that  dear  pearl  of  mine. 

Save  endless  dole  what  is  man's  doom  ?" 


[28] 


"No  doom  save  pain  and  soul's  distress  ?" 
She  answered  :  "Wherefore  thinkst  thou  so  ? 
For  pain  of  parting  with  the  less, 
Man  often  lets  the  greater  go: 
'T  were  better  thou  thy  fate  shouldst  bless, 
And  love  thy  God,  through  weal  and  woe; 
For  anger  wins  not  happiness; 
Who  must,  shall  bear;  bend  thy  pride  low; 
For  though  thou  mayst  dance  to  and  fro, 
Struggle  and  shriek,  and  fret  and  fume, 
When  thou  canst  stir  not,  swift  nor  slow, 
At  last,  thou  must  endure  His  doom. 


"Let  God  doom  as  He  doth  ordain; 
He  will  not  turn  one  foot  aside; 
Thy  good  deeds  mount  up  but  in  vain, 
Thou  must  in  sorrow  ever  bide; 
Stint  of  thy  strife,  cease  to  complain, 
Seek  His  compassion  safe  and  wide, 
Thy  prayer  His  pity  may  obtain, 
Till  Mercy  all  her  might  have  tried. 
Thy  anguish  He  will  heal  and  hide, 
And  lightly  lift  away  thy  gloom; 
For,  be  thou  sore  or  satisfied, 
All  is  for  Him  to  deal  and  doom." 


[3°] 


VII 

^\OOM  me  not,  dearest  damosel; 
-*— ^     'T  is  not  for  wrath  nor  bitterness, 
If  rash  and  raving  thoughts  I  tell. 
For  sin  my  heart  seethed  in  distress, 
Like  bubbling  water  in  a  well. 
I  cry  God  mercy,  and  copfess. 
Rebuke  me  not  with  words  so  fell; 
I  have  lost  all  that  my  life  did  bless; 
Comfort  my  sorrow  and  redress, 
Piteously  thinking  upon  this: 
Grief  and  my  soul  thou  hast  made  express 
One  music,  —  thou  who  wert  my  bliss. 


[31] 


"My  bliss  and  bale,  thou  hast  been  both, 
But  joy  by  great  grief  was  undone ; 
When  thou  didst  vanish,  by  my  troth, 
I  knew  not  where  my  Pearl  was  gone. 
To  lose  thee  now  I  were  most  loth. 
Dear,  when  we  parted  we  were  one; 
Now  God  forbid  that  we  be  wroth, 
We  meet  beneath  the  moon  or  sun 
So  seldom.     Gently  thy  words  run, 
But  I  am  dust,  my  deeds  amiss; 
The  mercy  of  Christ  and  Mary  and  John 
Is  root  and  ground  of  all  my  bliss. 


[32] 


"A  blissful  life  I  see  thee  lead, 
The  while  that  I  am  sorrow's  mate; 
Haply  thou  givest  little  heed 
What  might  my  burning  hurt  abate. 
Since  I  may  in  thy  presence  plead, 
I  do  beseech  thee  thou  narrate, 
Soberly,  surely,  word  and  deed, 
What  life  is  thine,  early  and  late  ? 
I  am  fain  of  thy  most  fair  estate; 
The  high  road  of  my  joy  is  this, 
That  thou  hast  happiness  so  great; 
It  is  the  ground  of  all  my  bliss." 


[33] 


She  said,  "May  bliss  to  thee  betide/* 
Her  face  with  beauty  beaming  clear, 
"Welcome  thou  art  here  to  abide, 
For  now  thy  speech  is  to  me  dear. 
Masterful  mood  and  haughty  pride, 
I  warn  thee  win  but  hatred  here; 
For  my  Lord  loveth  not  to  chide 
And  meek  are  all  that  to  Him  come  near. 
When  in  His  place  thou  shalt  appear, 
To  kneel  devout  be  not  remiss, 
My  Lord  the  Lamb  loveth  such  cheer, 
Who  is  the  ground  of  all  my  bliss. 


[34] 


"Thou  sayest  a  blissful  life  I  know, 
And  thou  wouldst  learn  of  its  degree. 
Thou   rememberest  when   thy  pearl   fell   low 
In  earth,  I  was  but  young  to  see; 
But  my  Lord  the  Lamb,  as  if  to  show 
His  grace,  took  me  His  bride  to  be, 
Crowned  me  a  queen  in  bliss  to  go 
Through  length  of  days  eternally; 
And  dowered  with  all  His  wealth  is  she 
Who  is  His  love,  and  I  am  His; 
His  worthiness  and  royalty 
Are  root  and  ground  of  all  my  bliss." 


[35] 


VIII 

"  "IV  /[  Y  blissful  one,  may  this  be  true. 

•L^J-     Pardon  if  I  speak  ill,"  I  prayed: 
"Art  thou  the  queen  o'  the  heaven's  blue, 
To  whom  earth's  honour  shall  be  paid  ? 
We  believe  in  Mary,  of  grace  who  grew, 
A  mother,  yet  a  blameless  maid; 
To  wear  her  crown  were  only  due 
To  one  who  purer  worth  displayed. 
For  perfectness  by  none  gainsaid, 
We  call  her  the  Phoenix  of  Araby, 
That  flies  in  faultless  charm  arrayed, 
Like  to  the  Queen  of  courtesy." 


[36] 


"Courteous  Queen,"   that  bright   one  said, 
And,  kneeling,  lifted  up  her  face : 
"  Matchless  Mother  and  merriest  Maid, 
Blessed  Beginner  of  every  grace." 
Then  she  arose,  and  softly  stayed, 
And  spoke  to  me  across  that  space: 
"Sir,  many  seek  gain  here,  and  are  paid, 
But  defrauders  are  none  within  this  place; 
That  Empress  may  all  heaven  embrace, 
And  earth  and  hell  in  her  empery; 
Her  from  her  heritage  none  will  chase, 
For  she  is  Queen  of  courtesy. 


[37] 


"The   court  of  the   kingdom  of  God   doth 

thrive 

Only  because  of  this  wondrous  thing: 
Each  one  who  therein  may  arrive, 
Of  the  realm  is  either  queen  or  king; 
And  no  one  the  other  doth  deprive, 
But  is  fain  of  his  fellow's  guerdoning, 
And  would  wish  each  crown  might  be  worth 

five, 

If  possible  were  their  bettering. 
But   my   Lady,   from  whom   our  Lord    did 

spring, 

Rules  over  all  our  company, 
And  for  that  we  all  rejoice  and  sing, 
Since  she  is  Queen  of  courtesy. 

[38] 


"Of  courtesy,  as  says  St.  Paul, 
Members  of  Christ  we  may  be  seen. 
As  head  and  arm  and  leg,  and  all, 
Bound  to  the  body  close  have  been, 
Each  Christian  soul  himself  may  call 
A  living  limb  of  his  Lord,  I  ween. 
And  see  how  neither  hate  nor  gall 
'Twixt  limb  and  limb  may  intervene; 
The  head  shows  neither  spite  nor  spleen, 
Though  arm  and  finger  jewelled  be, 
So  fare  we  all  in  love  serene, 
As  kings  and  queens  by  courtesy." 


[39] 


"Courtesy  flowers  thy  folk  among, 
And  charity,  I  well  believe. 
If  foolish  words  flow  from  my  tongue, 
Let  not  my  speech  thy  spirit  grieve. 
A  queen  in  heaven  while  yet  so  young, 
Too  high  thou  dost  thyself  upheave. 
Then  what  reward  from  strife  were  wrung  ? 
What  worship  more  might  he  achieve 
Who  lived  in  penance  morn  and  eve, 
Through  bodily  pain  in  bliss  to  be  ? 
Honour  more  high  might  he  receive, 
Than  be  crowned  king  by  courtesy  ? 


[40] 


IX 


ST^HAT  courtesy  rewards  no  deed 
-*-      If  all  be  true  that  thou  dost  say; 
Our  life  not  two  years  didst  thou  lead 
Nor  learned  to  please  God,  nor  to  pray, 
No  Paternoster  knew  nor  creed, 
And  made  a  queen  on  the  first  day ! 
I  may  not  think,  so  God  me  speed ! 
That  God  from  right  would  swerve  away; 
As  a  countess,  damsel,  by  my  fay ! 
To  live  in  heaven  were  a  fair  boon, 
Or  like  a  lady  of  less  array, 
But  a  queen !     Ah,  no !  it  is  too  soon." 


[41] 


"With  Him  there  is  no  soon  nor  late," 
Replied  to  me  that  worthy  wight; 
"True  always  is  His  high  mandate; 
He  doth  no  evil,  day  nor  night. 
Hear  Matthew  in  the  mass  narrate, 
In  the  Gospel  of  the  God  of  might, 
His  parable  portrays  the  state 
Of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  clear  as  light 
'My  servants,'  saith  He,  'I  requite 
As  a  lord  who  will  his  vineyard  prune; 
The  season  of  the  year  is  right, 
And  labourers  must  be  hired  soon.' 


[42] 


"Right  soon  the  hirelings  all  may  see 
How  the  master  with  the  dawn  arose; 
To  hire  his  labourers  forth  went  he, 
And  workmen  stout  and  strong  he  chose. 
For  a  penny  a  day  they  all  agree, 
Even  as  the  master  doth  propose, 
They  toil  and  travail  lustily, 
Prune,  bind,  and  with  a  ditch  enclose. 
Then  to  the  market-place  he  goes, 
And  finds  men  idle  at  high  noon: 
'How  can  a  man  stand  here  who  knows 
The  vineyards  should  be  tilled  so  soon  ?' 


[43] 


"'Soon  as  day  dawned  we  hither  won, 
And  no  man  hath  our  labour  sought; 
We  have  been  standing  since  rose  the  sun 
And  no  one  bids  us  to  do  aught/ 
*  Enter  my  vineyard  every  one,' 
The  master  answered  quick  as  thought: 
'The  work  that  each  by  night  has  done 
I  will  truly  pay,  withholding  naught/ 
Among  the  vines  they  went  and  wrought, 
While  morning,  noon  and  afternoon, 
More  labourers  the  master  brought, 
Until  the  night  must  gather  soon. 


[44] 


"  Soon  fell  the  time  of  evensong. 

An  hour  before  the  sun  was  set, 

He  saw  more  idlers,  young  and  strong; 

His  voice  was  sober  with  regret : 

'Why  stand  ye  idle  ail  day  long?' 

'No  man,'  they  said,  'hath  hired  us  yet/ 

'Go  to  my  vineyard,  fear  no  wrong; 

Each  man  an  honest  wage  shall  get.' 

The  day  grew  dark  and  darker  yet, 

Before  the  rising  of  the  moon ; 

The  master  who  would  pay  his  debt, 

Bade  summon  all  the  hirelings  soon. 


[45] 


X 


lord  soon  called  his  steward:  'Go 
Bring  in  the  men  quick  as  ye  may; 
Give  them  the  wages  that  I  owe, 
And,  lest  they  aught  against  me  say, 
Range  them  along  here  in  a  row, 
To  each  alike  his  penny  pay; 
Start  with  the  last  who  standeth  low, 
And  to  the  first  proceed  straightway/ 
And  then  the  first  began  to  pray, 
Complaining  they  had  travailed  sore: 
'These  wrought  but  one  hour  of  the  day, 
We  think  we  should  receive  the  more. 


[46] 


" '  More  have  we  served,'  they  muttered  low, 
'Who  have  endured  the  long  day's  heat, 
Than  these  who  not  two  hours  toiled  so; 
Why  should  their  claim  with  ours  compete?' 
Said  the  master:  'I  pay  all  I  owe; 
Friend,  no  injustice  shalt  thou  meet; 
Take  that  which  is  thine  own  and  go. 
For  a  penny  we  settled  in  the  street; 
Why  dost  thou  now  for  more  entreat  ? 
Thou  wast  well  satisfied  before. 
Once  made,  a  bargain  is  complete; 
Why    shouldst    thou,    threatening,    ask    for 
more  ? 


[47] 


"'What  can  be  more  within  my  gift 
Than  what  I  will  with  mine  to  do  ? 
Let  not  thine  eyes  to  evil  shift, 
Because  I  trusty  am,  and  true.' 
'Thus  I,'  said  Christ,  'all  men  shall  sift. 
The  last  shall  be  the  first  of  you ; 
And  the  first  last,  however  swift, 
For  many  are  called,  but  chosen,  few.* 
And  thus  poor  men  may  have  their  due, 
That  late  and  little  burden  bore; 
Their  work  may  vanish  like  the  dew, 
The  mercy  of  God  is  much  the  more. 


"More  gladness  have  I,  herewithin, 
Of  flower  of  life,  and  noble  name, 
Than  all  men  in  the  world  might  win, 
Who  thought  their  righteous  deeds  to  name. 
Nathless  even  now  did  I  begin; 
To  the  vineyard  as  night  fell  I  came, 
But  my  Lord  would  not  account  it  sin; 
He  paid  my  wages  without  blame. 
Yet  others  did  not  fare  the  same, 
Who  toiled  and  travailed  there  before, 
And  of  their  hire  might  nothing  claim, 
Perchance  shall  not  for  a  year  more." 


[49] 


Then  more,  and  openly,  I  spake : 
"From  thy  tale  no  reason  can  I  wring; 
God's  righteousness  doth  ever  wake, 
Else  Holy  Writ  is  a  fabled  thing. 
From  the  Psalter  one  verse  let  us  take, 
That  may  to  a  point  this  teaching  bring: 
'Thou  requitest  each  for  his  deed's  sake, 
Thou  high  and  all-foreknowing  King.' 
If  one  man  to  his  work  did  cling 
All  day,  and  thou  wert  paid  before, 
Most  wage  falls  to  least  labouring, 
And  ever  the  less  receives  the  more." 


[50] 


XI 

more  or  less  where  God  doth  reign, 
There  is  no  chance,"  she  gently  said, 
"For,  whether  large  or  small  his  gain, 
Here  every  man  alike  is  paid. 
No  niggard  churl  our  High  Chieftain, 
But  lavishly  His  gifts  are  made, 
Like  streams  from  a  moat  that  flow  amain, 
Or  rushing  waves  that  rise  unstayed. 
Free  were  his  pardon  whoever  prayed 
Him  who  to  save  man's  soul  did  vow, 
Unstinted  his  bliss,  and  undelayed, 
For  the  grace  of  God  is  great  enow. 


"But  now  thou  wouldst  my  wit  checkmate, 
Making  my  wage  as  wrong  appear; 
Thou  say'st  that  I  am  come  too  late, 
Of  so  large  hire  to  be  worthy  here ; 
Yet  sawest  thou  ever  small  or  great, 
Living  in  prayer  and  holy  fear, 
Who  did  not  forfeit  at  some  date 
The  meed  of  heaven  to  merit  clear  ? 
Nay  much  the  rather,  year  by  year, 
All  bend  from  right  and  to  evil  bow; 
Mercy  and  grace  their  way  must  steer, 
For  the  grace  of  God  is  great  enow. 


[52] 


"  But  enow  of  grace  have  the  innocent 
New-born,  before  the  sacred  shrine, 
They  are  sealed  with  water  in  sacrament, 
And  thus  are  brought  into  the  vine. 
Anon  the  day  with  darkness  blent, 
Death  by  its  might  makes  to  decline; 
Who  wrought  no  wrong  ere  hence  they  went, 
The  gentle  Lord  receives,  in  fine; 
They  obeyed  His  will,  they  bore  His  sign, 
Why  should  He  not  their  claim  allow  ? 
Yea,  and  reward  them,  I  opine, 
For  the  grace  of  God  is  great  enow. 


[53] 


"'T  is  known  enow  that  all  mankind 

At  first  were  formed  for  perfect  bliss; 

Our  forefather  that  boon  resigned, 

All  for  an  apple's  sake,  I  wis; 

We  fell  condemned,  for  folly  blind, 

To  suffer  sore  in  hell's  abyss; 

But  One  a  remedy  did  find 

Lest  we  our  hope  of  heaven  should  miss. 

He  suffered  on  the  cross  for  this, 

Red  blood  ran  from  His  crowned  brow; 

He  saved  us  by  that  pain  of  His, 

For  the  grace  of  God  is  great  enow. 


[54] 


"  Enow  there  flowed  from  out  that  well, 

Blood  and  water  from  His  broad  wound: 

The  blood  bought  us  from  bale  of  hell, 

And  from  second  death  deliverance  found. 

The  water  is  baptism,  truth  to  tell, 

That  followed  the  spear  so  sharply  ground, 

And  washes  away  the  guilt  most  fell 

Of  those  that  Adam  in  death  had  drowned. 

Now  is  there  nothing  in  earth's  great  round, 

To  bar  from  the  bliss  wherewith  God  did 

endow 

Mankind,  —  restored  to  us  safe  and  sound, 
For  the  grace  of  God  is  great  enow. 


[55] 


XII 

RACE  enow  a  man  may  get 

By  penitence,  though  he  sin  again; 
But  with  long  sorrow  and  regret, 
He  must  bear  punishment  and  pain; 
But  righteous  reason  will  not  let 
The  innocent  be  hurt  in  vain; 
God  never  gave  His  judgment  yet, 
That  they  should  suffer  who  show  no  stain. 
The  sinful  soul  of  mercy  fain 
Finds  pardon  if  he  will  repent, 
But  he  who  sinless  doth  remain 
Is  surely  saved,  being  innocent. 


[56] 


"Two  men  are  saved  of  God's  good  grace, 
Who  severally  have  done  His  will : 
The  righteous  man  shall  see  His  face, 
The  innocent  dwells  with  Him  still. 
In  the  Psalter  thou  may'st  find  a  case: 
'Lord,  who  shall  climb  to  Thy  high  hill, 
Or  rest  within  Thy  Holy  Place  ? ' 
The  psalmist  doth  the  sense  fulfill: 
'Who  with  his  hands  did  never  ill, 
His  heart  to  evil  never  lent, 
There  to  ascend  he  shall  have  skill;' 
So  surely  saved  is  the  innocent. 


[57] 


"That  the  righteous  is  saved  I  hold  certain; 
Before  God's  palace  he  shall  stand 
Who  never  took  man's  life  in  vain, 
Who  never  to  flatter  his  fellow  planned. 
Of  the  righteous,  the  Wise  Man  writeth  plain 
How  kindly  our  King  doth  him  command ; 
In  ways  full  strait  he  doth  restrain, 
Yet  shows  him  the  kingdom  great  and  grand, 
As  who  saith  :  '  Behold  !  yon  lovely  land  ! 
Thou  may'st  win  it,  if  so  thy  will  be  bent.' 
But  with  never  peril  on  either  hand, 
Surely  saved  is  the  innocent. 


[58] 


"Of  the  righteous  saved,  hear  one  man  say 

David,  who  in  the  Psalter  cried : 

'O  Lord,  call  never  Thy  servant  to  pay, 

For  no  man  living  is  justified.' 

So  thou,  if  thou  shalt  come  one  day 

To  the  court  that  each  cause  must  decide, 

For  mercy  with  justice  thou  may'st  pray 

Through  this  same  text  that  I  espied. 

But  may  He  on  the  bloody  cross  that  died, 

His  holy  hands  with  hard  nails  rent, 

Give  thee  to  pass  when  thou  art  tried, 

Saved,  not  as  righteous,  but  innocent. 


[59] 


"Of  the  sinless  saved  the  tale  is  told,  — 
Read  in  the  Book  where  it  is  said : 
When  Jesus  walked,  among  men  of  old, 
The  people  a  passage  to  Him  made; 
Bringing  their  bairns  for  Him  to  hold, 
For  the  blessing  of  His  hand  they  prayed. 
The  twelve  reproved  them :  '  Overbold 
To  seek  the  Master;'   and  sternly  stayed. 
But  Jesus  said:  'Be  ye  not  afraid; 
Suffer  the  children,  nor  prevent; 
God's  kingdom  is  for  such  arrayed/ 
Surely  saved  are  the  innocent. 


[60] 


XIII 

called  to   Him  the  innocents 
mild, 

And  said  His  kingdom  no  man  might  win, 
Unless  he  came  thither  as  a  child,  — - 
Not  otherwise  might  he  enter  in, 
Harmless,  faithful,  undefiled, 
With  never  a  spot  of  soiling  sin,  — 
For  these  whom  the  world  has  not  beguiled 
Gladly  shall  one  the  gate  unpin. 
There  shall  that  endless  bliss  begin, 
The  merchant  sought,  and  straight  was  led 
To  barter  all  stuffs  men  weave  and  spin, 
To  buy  him  a  pearl  unblemished. 


[6,] 


'This  pearl  unblemished,  bought  so  dear, 
For  which  the  merchant  his  riches  gave, 
Is  like  the  kingdom  of  heaven  clear;' 
So  said  the  Father  of  world  and  wave. 
It  is  a  flawless,  perfect  sphere, 
Polished  and  pure,  and  bright  and  brave; 
As  on  my  heart  it  doth  appear, 
It  is  common  to  all  who  to  virtue  clave. 
My  Lord,  the  Lamb  Who  died  to  save, 
Here  set  it  in  token  of  His  blood  shed 
For  peace.     Then  let  the  wild  world  rave, 
But  buy  thee  this  pearl  unblemished." 


"O  Pearl  unblemished,  in  pure  pearls  dressed, 
That  beareth,"  said  I,  "the  pearl  of  price, 
Who  formed  thy  figure  and  thy  vest  ? 
Truly  he  wrought  with  cunning  nice; 
For  thy  beauty,  above  nature's  best, 
Passeth  Pygmalion's  artifice; 
Nor  Aristotle  the  lore  possessed 
To  depict  in  words  so  fair  device. 
Than  fleur-de-lys  thou  art  fairer  thrice, 
Angel-mannered  and  courtly  bred,  — 
Tell  to  me  truly:  in  Paradise 
What  meaneth  the  pearl  unblemished?" 


[63] 


"My  spotless  Lamb,  who  all  doth  heal," 
She  answered,  "my  dear  Destiny, 
Chose  me  in  marriage  bond  to  seal; 
Unfit,  He  graced  me  regally, 
From  your  world's  woe  come  into  weal. 
He  called  me  of  His  courtesy : 
'Come  hither  to  me,  my  lover  leal, 
For  mote  nor  spot  is  none  in  thee.' 
He  gave  me  my  might  and  great  beauty; 
He  washed  my  weeds  in  His  blood  so  red, 
And  crowned  me,  forever  clean  to  be, 
And  clothed  me  in  pearls  unblemished." 


[64] 


"Unblemished  bride,  bright  to  behold, 
That  royalty  hath  so  rich  and  rare, 
What  is  this  Lamb,  that  thou  hast  told 
How  for  wedded  wife  He  called  thee  there  ? 
Above  all  others  dost  thou  make  bold, 
As  His  chosen  lady  His  life  to  share  ? 
So  many,  comely  in  combs  of  gold, 
For  Christ  have  lived  in  strife  and  care, 
Must  these  to  a  lower  place  repair, 
That  never  any  with  Him  may  wed, 
Save  only  thyself,  so  proud  and  fair, 
Peerless  Queen,  and  unblemished?" 


XIV 

"T  TNBLEMISHED,"  answered  she 

^-^      again, 

"Without  a  spot  of  black  or  gray, 
With  honour  may  I  this  maintain; 
But  'peerless  Queen'  I  did  not  say. 
Brides  of  the  Lamb  in  bliss  we  reign, 
An  hundred  and  forty  thousand  gay, 
As  in  the  Apocalypse  is  made  plain, 
Saint  John  beheld  them  on  a  day; 
On  the  hill  of  Zion  he  saw  them  stay, 
In  vision  his  spirit  looked  on  them, 
For  the  wedding  clad  in  bright  array, 
At  the  city  of  New  Jerusalem. 


[66] 


"Of  Jerusalem  in  speech  I  tell; 

And  what  He  is  if  thou  wouldst  see  — 

My  Lamb,  my  Lord,  my  dear  Jewel, 

My  Joy,  my  Love,  my  Bliss  so  free,  — 

The  prophet  Isaiah  writeth  well 

Of  His  most  mild  humility: 

'Guiltless,  when  men  upon  Him  fell 

For  never  a  fault  nor  felony, 

As  a  sheep  to  the  slaughter  led  was  He; 

Quiet,  the  while  the  crowd  contemn, 

As  a  lamb  in  the  shearer's  hands  might  be, 

He  was  judged  by  Jews  in  Jerusalem.' 


"In  Jerusalem  was  my  Lover  slain, 
Rent  on  the  rood  by  ruffians  bold; 
To  bear  our  ills  He  was  full  fain, 
To  suffer  our  sorrows  manifold; 
Buffeted  until  blood  did  stain 
That  face  so  lovely  to  behold; 
He  took  upon  Him  all  sin  and  pain, 
Even  He  of  Whom  not  one  sin  is  told ; 
On  the  rude  cross  stretched  faint  and  cold, 
He  let  men  deride  him  and  condemn; 
Meek  as  a  lamb,  betrayed  and  sold, 
He  died  for  us  in  Jerusalem. 


[68] 


"At  Jerusalem,  Jordan  and  Galilee, 
Wherever  Saint  John  came  to  baptize, 
His  words  with  Isaiah's  words  agree. 
On  Jesus  he  lifted  up  his  eyes, 
Speaking  of  Him  this  prophecy: 
'Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  !'  he  cries: 
'Who  bears  the  world's  sins,  this  is  He ! 
The  guilt  of  all  upon  Him  lies, 
Though  He  wrought  evil  in  no  wise. 
The  branches  springing  from  that  stem 
Who  can  recount  ?     'T  is  He  who  dies 
For  our  sake  in  Jerusalem/ 


"In  Jerusalem  my  Lover  sweet 
Twice  as  a  lamb  did  thus  appear, 
Even  as  the  prophets  both  repeat, 
So  meek  the  mien  that  He  did  wear; 
The  third  time  also,  as  is  meet, 
In  the  Revelation  is  written  clear. 
Reading  a  book  on  His  high  seat 
Midmost  the  throne  that  saints  ensphere, 
The  Apostle  John  beheld  Him  near; 
That  book  seven  sacred  seals  begem; 
And  at  that  sight  all  folk  felt  fear 
In  hell,  in  earth  and  Jerusalem. 


[7°] 


XV 

"^  I^HIS  Jerusalem  Lamb  had  never  stain 

-*-      Of  other  hue  than  perfect  white, 
That  showeth  neither  streak  nor  strain 
Of  soil,  but  is  like  wool  to  sight; 
And  souls  that  free  of  sin  remain 
The  Lamb  receiveth  with  delight; 
And,  though  each  day  a  group  we  gain, 
There  comes  no  strife  for  room  nor  right, 
Nor  rivalry  our  bliss  to  blight. 
The  more  the  merrier,  I  profess. 
In  company  our  love  grows  bright, 
In  honour  more  and  never  less. 


"Lessening  of  bliss  no  comer  brings 
To  us  who  bear  this  pearl  at  breast; 
Nor  show  they  flaws  nor  tarnishings 
Who  wear  such  pure  pearls  like  a  crest. 
Though  round  our  corpses  the  clay  clings, 
And  though  ye  mourn  us  without  rest, 
Knowledge  have  we  of  goodly  things. 
Through  the  first  death  our  hope  we  test; 
Grief  goes ;  at  each  mass  we  are  blest 
By  the  Lamb  Who  gives  us  happiness; 
The  bliss  of  each  is  bright  and  best, 
And  no  one's  honour  is  the  less. 


[72] 


"That  thou  my  tale  the  less  may  doubt, 
In  the  Revelation  't  is  told,  and  more : 
'I  saw/  says  John,  'a  goodly  rout 
The  hill  of  Zion  covering  o'er, 
The  Lamb,  with  maidens  round  about, 
An  hundred  thousand  and  forty  and  four, 
And  each  brow,  fairly  written  out, 
The  Lamb's  name  and  His  Father's  bore. 
Then  a  sound  from  heaven  I  heard  outpour, 
As  streams,  full  laden,  foam  and  press, 
Or  as  thunders  among  dark  crags  roar, 
The  tumult  was,  and  nothing  less. 


[73] 


"'Nathless,  though  high  that  shout  might  ring, 
And  loud  the  voices  sounding  near, 
A  strain  full  new  I  heard  them  sing, 
And  sweet  and  strange  it  was  to  hear. 
Like  harper's  hands  upon  the  string 
Was  that  new  song  they  sang  so  clear; 
The  noble  notes  went  vibrating, 
And  gentle  words  came  to  my  ear. 
Close  by  God's  throne,  without  one  fear, 
Where  the  four  beasts  His  power  confess, 
And  the  elders  stand  so  grave  of  cheer, 
They  sang  their  new  song,  none  the  less. 


"'Nathless  is  none  with  skill  so  fine, 
For  all  the  crafts  that  ever  he  knew, 
That  of  that  song  might  sing  a  line, 
Save  these  that  hold  the  Lamb  in  view; 
From  earth  brought  to  that  land  divine, 
As  first  fruits  that  to  God  are  due, 
They  serve  the  Lamb  and  bear  His  sign, 
As  like  Himself  in  face  and  hue; 
For  never  lying  nor  tale  untrue 
Defiled  their  lips  in  life's  distress;' 
Whatever  might  move  them,  they  but  drew 
Nearer  the  Master,  none  the  less." 


[75] 


"Nevertheless,  speak  out  I  must, 

My  Pearl,  though  queries  rude  I  pose. 

To  try  thy  fair  wit  were  unjust 

Whom  Christ  to  His  own  chamber  chose. 

Behold,  I  am  but  dung  and  dust, 

And  thou  a  rare  and  radiant  rose, 

Abiding  here  in  life,  and  lust 

Of  loveliness  that  ever  grows. 

O 

A  hind  that  no  least  cunning  knows, 
I  needs  must  my  one  doubt  express; 
Though  boisterous  as  the  wind  that  blows, 
Let  my  prayer  move  thee  none  the  less. 


[76] 


XVI 

,  none  the  less,  on  thee  I  call, 
If  thou  wilt  listen  verily, 
As  thou  art  glorious  over  all, 
Hearken  the  while  I  question  thee. 
Within  some  splendid  castle  wall, 
Have  ye  not  dwellings  fair  to  see  ? 
Of  David's  city,  rich,  royal, 
Jerusalem,  thou  tellest  me. 
In  Palestine  its  place  must  be; 
In  wildwood  such  none  ever  saw. 
Since  spotless  is  your  purity, 
Your  dwellings  should  be  free  from  flaw. 


[77] 


"  Now  this  most  fair  and  flawless  rout, 

Thronging  thousands,  as  thou  dost  tell, 

They  must  possess,  beyond  a  doubt, 

A  sightly  city  wherein  to  dwell. 

'T  were  strange  that  they  should  live  without; 

For  so  bright  a  band  it  were  not  well; 

Yet  I  see  no  building  hereabout. 

Dost  thou  linger  as  in  a  woodland  cell, 

Alone  and  hidden,  for  the  spell 

Of  rushing  stream  and  shining  shaw  ? 

If  thou  hast  a  dwelling  beyond  this  dell, 

Now  show  me  that  city  free  from  flaw." 


[78] 


"Not  flawless  the  city  in  Juda's  land," 
That  gentle  one  gently  to  me  spake, 
"  But  the  Lamb  did  bless  it  when  He  planned 
To  suffer  there  sorely  for  man's  sake. 
That  is  the  old  city  we  understand, 
And  there  the  bonds  of  old  guilt  did  break ; 
But  the  new,  alighted  from  God's  hand, 
The  Apostle  John  for  his  theme  did  take. 
The  Lamb  Who  is  white  with  never  a  flake 
Of  black,  did  thither  His  fair  folk  draw; 
For  His  flock  no  fenced  fold  need  He  make, 
Nor  moat  for  His  city  free  from  flaw. 


[79] 


"To  figure  flawlessly  what  may  mean 

Jerusalems  twain :  the  first  of  those 

Was  'the  Sight  of  Peace'  as  it  is  seen 

In  the  word  of  God,  for  the  gospel  shows 

How  there  our  peace  made  sure  hath  been, 

Since  to  suffer  therein  the  Saviour  chose; 

In  the  other  is  always  peace  to  glean, 

Peace  that  never  an  ending  knows. 

To  that  city  bright  the  spirit  goes 

When  the  flesh  hath  fallen  beneath  death's 

law; 

There  glorious  gladness  forever  grows 
For  His  fair  folk  that  are  free  from  flaw." 


[so] 


"Flawless  maid  so  mild  and  meek," 

Then  said  I  to  that  lovely  flower: 

"Let  me  that  stately  city  seek, 

And  let  me  see  thy  blissful  bower." 

That  bright  one  said,  "Thou  art  too  weak, 

Thou  may'st  not  enter  to  its  tower; 

Yet  of  the  Lamb  I  did  bespeak 

This  goodly  gift,  that  He  would  dower 

Thine  eyes  with  the  sight  for  one  short  hour, — 

From  without,  — within  none  ever  saw; 

To  step  in  that  street  thou  hast  no  power, 

Unless  thy  soul  were  free  from  flaw. 


T 


XVII 

HIS  flawless  sight  I  will  not  hide; 
Up  toward  the  brook's  head  thou  must 


While  I  will  follow  on  this  side, 

Till  yonder  hill  the  city  show." 

And  then  I  would  no  longer  bide, 

But  stole  through  branches,  bending  low, 

Till  from  the  summit  I  espied, 

Through  green  boughs  swaying  to  and  fro, 

Afar,  the  city,  all  aglow, 

That  brighter  than  bright  sunbeams  shone. 

In  writing  it  is  pictured  so, 

In  the  Revelation  of  St.  John. 


[82] 


As  John  the  Apostle  saw  the  sight, 
I  saw  that  city,  standing  near 
Jerusalem,  so  royal  dight, 
As  if  from  Heaven  alighted  here. 
The  city  all  of  gold  burned  bright, 
Like  gleaming  glass  that  glistens  clear. 
With  precious  stones  beneath  set  right: 
Foundations  twelve  of  gems  most  dear, 
Wrought  wondrous  richly,  tier  on  tier. 
Each  base  was  of  a  separate  stone 
As,  perfectly,  it  doth  appear 
In  the  Revelation  of  St.  John. 


[83] 


John  named  the  stones  that  he  had  seen, 
I  knew  the  order  that  he  made; 
The  first  a  jasper  must  have  been, 
That  on  the  lowest  base  was  laid, 
Beneath  the  rest  it  glinted  green; 
A  sapphire  in  the  second  grade; 
Chalcedony,  from  blemish  clean, 
In  the  third  course  was  fair  arrayed; 
Fourth,  emerald,  of  greenest  shade, 
Fifth,  sardonyx,  was  raised  thereon; 
The  sixth  a  ruby,  as  is  said 
In  the  Revelation  of  St.  John. 


[84] 


John  joined  to  these  the  chrysolite, 
The  seventh  gem  in  that  basement; 
The  eighth,  a  beryl,  clear  and  white; 
The  topaz,  ninth,  its  luster  lent; 
Tenth,  chrysophrase,  both  soft  and  bright; 
Eleventh,  the  jacinth,  translucent; 
And  twelfth,  and  noblest  to  recite, 
Amethyst,  blue  with  purple  blent. 
The  wall  above  those  basements  went 
Jasper,  like  glass  that  glistening  shone; 
I  saw,  as  the  story  doth  present,  — 
The  Revelation  of  St.  John. 


[85] 


I  saw,  as  John  doth  clear  devise: 
The  great  stones  rose  like  a  broad  stair; 
Above,  the  city,  to  my  eyes, 
In    height,    length,    breadth    appeared    four- 
square; 

The  jasper  wall  shone  amber-wise, 
The  golden  streets  as  glass  gleamed  fair; 
The  dwellings  glowed  in  glorious  guise 
With  every  stone  most  rich  and  rare. 
Each  length  of  bright  wall  builded  there 
For  full  twelve  furlongs'  space  stretched  on, 
And  height,  length,  breadth  all  equal  were : 
"I  saw  one  mete  it,"  writeth  John. 


[86] 


XVIII 

\  S  John  doth  write  more  met  mine  eye: 
•*•  -*•     Within  each  wall  were  set  three  gates ; 
Twelve  in  succession  I  could  spy, 
Portals  adorned  with  bright  gold  plates; 
Each  gate  a  single  pearl  saw  I, 
A  perfect  pearl,  as  John  relates. 
On  each  a  name  was  written  high 
Of  Israel's  sons  after  their  dates, 
The  oldest  first,  as  the  story  states. 
Within  those  streets  by  night  or  noon, 
Light  beams  that  not  one  hour  abates; 
They  needed  neither  sun  nor  moon. 


[87] 


Of  sun  or  moon  they  had  no  need ; 
For  God  Himself  was  their  lamp  light, 
The  Lamb  their  lantern  was  indeed; 
From  Him  the  city  shone  all  bright. 
Through  wall  and  dwelling  my  looks  might 

speed, 

Such  clearness  could  not  hinder  sight. 
Of  the  high  throne  ye  might  take  heed, 
With  draperies  of  radiant  white, 
As  John  the  Apostle  doth  endite; 
High  God  Himself  did  sit  thereon. 
From  the  throne  a  river  welled  outright 
Was  brighter  than  both  sun  and  moon. 


[88] 


Sun  nor  moon  shone  never  so  sweet 
As  the  full  flood  of  that  bright  stream; 
Swiftly  it  swept  through  every  street, 
Untainted  did  the  water  gleam. 
Chapel  nor  church  mine  eyes  did  meet; 
Therein  is  no  temple  as  I  deem; 
The  Almighty  is  their  minster  meet, 
The  Lamb  their  sacrifice  supreme. 
The  gates  with  neither  bolt  nor  beam, 
Wide  open  stand  at  night  and  noon; 
To  enter  there  let  no  man  dream 
Whom  sin  hath  stained  beneath  the  moon. 


The  moon  may  there  win  no  least  might, 
She  is  too  spotty,  grey  and  grim; 
Therein,  moreover,  is  never  night, 
Why  should  the  moon  fill  full  her  rim 
To  rival  the  all-glorious  light 
That  beams  upon  the  river's  brim  ? 
The  planets  are  in  poorest  plight; 
The  sun  itself  is  far  too  dim. 
Beside  the  stream  trees  tall  and  trim 
Bear  living  fruits  that  none  doth  prune; 
Twelve  times  a  year  bends  low  each  limb, 
Renewed  with  fruitage  every  moon. 


[9.°] 


Beneath  the  moon  full  well  might  fail 

The  heart  of  mortal  to  endure 

The  marvel  that  did  mine  eyes  assail, 

Fashioned  the  fancy  to  allure. 

I  stood  as  still  as  a  startled  quail, 

For  wonder  of  its  fair  figure, 

I  felt  no  rest  and  no  travail, 

Ravished  before  such  radiance  pure. 

I  say,  and  with  conviction  sure, 

Had  the  eyes  of  man  received  that  boon, 

Though  wisest  clerks  sought  for  his  cure, 

His  life  were  lost  beneath  the  moon. 


XIX 

"IV  TOW,  even  as  the  full  moon  might  rise 

41  Ere  daylight  doth  to  darkness  fall, 

Sudden  I  saw  with  still  surprise 

Within  that  shining  city-wall, 

The  streets  full-thronged  in  wondrous  wise, 

Silent,  with  never  a  herald's  call, 

With  virgins  in  the  selfsame  guise 

As  my  beloved,  sweet  and  small. 

Each  head  was  crowned  with  coronal, 

Pearl-wrought,  and  every  robe  was  white; 

On  each  breast  bound,  imperial, 

The  Pearl  of  Price  with  great  delight. 


[9*] 


With  great  delight  together  going 

On  glassy  golden  streets  they  tread; 

To  a  hundred  thousand  swiftly  growing, 

And  all  alike  were  they  garmented : 

The  gladdest  face  who  could  be  knowing  ? 

The  Lamb  did  proudly  pass  ahead, 

His  seven  horns  of  clear  red  gold  glowing, 

His  robes  like  pearls  high  valued. 

On  toward  the  throne  their  way  they  thread, 

None  crowded  in  that  band  so  bright, 

But  mild  as  maidens  when  mass  is  said, 

So  fared  they  forth  with  great  delight. 


[93] 


The  great  delight  His  coming  gave, 
It  were  too  much  for  me  to  tell. 
When  He  approached  the  Elders  grave, 
Prone  there  before  His  feet  they  fell; 
Legions  of  summoned  angels  brave 
Swayed  censers  of  the  sweetest  smell; 
With  music  like  a  mighty  wave, 
All  sang  in  praise  of  that  gay  Jewel. 
The  hymn  might  strike  through  earth  to  hell 
That  with  joy  those  hosts  of  heaven  recite; 
To  praise  the  Lamb  I  liked  full  well, 
Amid  the  group  in  great  delight. 


[94] 


Delighted,  I  would  fain  devise 
His  loveliness,  with  mind  intent: 
First  was  He,  blithest,  best  to  prize, 
Of  all  on  whom  man's  speech  is  spent; 
So  nobly  white  His  draperies, 
Such  grace  His  simple  glances  lent; 
But  a  wide,  wet  wound  my  gaze  descries 
Beneath  His  heart,  through  His  skin  rent; 
Down  His  white  side  the  blood  was  sent. 
Alas  !    I  thought,  what  scorn  or  spite 
Could  any  human  heart  have  bent 
In  such  a  deed  to  take  delight  ? 


[95] 


The  Lamb's  delight  might  no  man  doubt, 
Though  that  wide  wound  His  hurt  displayed, 
From  His  fair  face  looked  lovely  out 
Glad  glances,  glorious,  unafraid. 
I  looked  upon  His  shining  rout, 
With  fullest  life  so  bright  arrayed, 
My  little  queen  there  moved  about, 
I  had  thought  beside  me  in  the  glade. 
Ah  Lord  !  how  much  of  mirth  she  made ! 
Among  her  peers  she  was  so  white ! 
The  stream  I  surely  needs  must  wade, 
For  longing  love,  in  great  delight. 


[96] 


XX 

FLIGHT  that  flooded  eye  and  ear 

My  mortal  mind  beatified; 
When  I  saw  her,  I  must  reach  my  dear, 
Though  she  beyond  the  brook  abide. 
Nothing,  I  thought,  could  keep  me  here, 
No  crippling  blow  hold  my  strength  tied ; 
I  would  plunge,  whatever  interfere, 
And  swim  the  stream,  though  there  I  died. 
But  ere  the  water  I  had  tried, 
Even  as  I  would  my  vow  fulfill, 
From  my  purpose  I  was  turned  aside; 
It  was  not  to  my  Prince's  will. 


[97] 


My  wilful  purpose  pleased  not  Him, 
That  I  with  headlong  zeal  essayed; 
Though  I  was  rash  of  thought  and  limb, 
Yet  suddenly  my  deed  was  stayed. 
As  I  sprang  forward  to  the  brim, 
The  action  in  my  dreaming  made 
Me  waken  in  my  arbour  trim. 
My  head  upon  the  mound  was  laid 
Where  my  pearl  to  the  grass  once  strayed. 
I  stretched  my  body,  frightened,  chill, 
And,  sighing,  to  myself  I  said  : 
"Now  all  be  to  the  Prince's  will." 


[98] 


Against  my  will  was  I  exiled 

From  that  bright  region,  fair  and  fain, 

From  that  life,  glad  and  undefiled, 

And  longing  dulled  my  sense  again; 

I  swooned  in  sorrow  for  the  child, 

Needs  must  my  heart  cry  and  complain 

"O  Pearl,  dear  was  thy  counsel  mild, 

In  this  true  vision  of  my  brain  ! 

If  very  truth  divide  us  twain ; 

If  thou  goest  crowned,  secure  from  ill, 

Well  for  me  in  my  prison-pain 

That  thou  art  to  the  Prince's  will." 


[99] 


To  the  Prince's  will  had  my  heart  bent, 
And  sought  but  what  to  me  was  given, 
Held  fast  to  that,  with  true  intent, 
As  my  Pearl  prayed  me  out  of  heaven ; 
Did  I  to  God  my  thoughts  present, 
More  in  His  mysteries  had  I  thriven. 
But  a  man  will  seek  more  than  is  sent, 
Till  from  his  hand  his  hope  be  riven. 
Thus  from  my  joy  was  I  forth  driven, 
From  the  life  upon  that  holy  hill. 
Oh,  fools,  that  with  the  Lord  have  striven, 
Or  proffered  gifts  against  his  will ! 


[100] 


The  Prince's  will  to  serve  aright 
The  Christian  may  full  well  divine; 
For  I  have  found  Him,  day  and  night, 
A  God,  a  Lord,  a  Friend  in  fine. 
Upon  this  mound  my  soul  hath  sight, 
Where  I  for  piteous  sorrow  pine; 
My  Pearl  to  God  I  pledge  and  plight, 
With  Christ's  dear  blessing  and  with  mine, 
His,  who,  in  form  of  bread  and  wine, 
The  priest  doth  daily  show  us  still. 
His  servants  may  we  be,  or  shine, 
Pure  pearls,  according  to  his  will. 

Amen.     Amen. 


['01] 


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